Mime
by eeniemeanie
Summary: An account of a friendship between the someday Patrician of Ankh-Morpork and a deaf mute girl who isn't quite what she claims to be. Will Encompass the entire series, eventual romance, follows canon but with extra little bits. Vet/OC
1. Prologue

**A/N So, this is an experiment. It'll take place during all the events of the books as a sort of background story. I'm assuming that up until sorcery, Vetinari is not the patrician mentioned. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Discworld. I am however working on a solution to that problem.**

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><p><em>Havelock Vetinari, patrician of Ankh-Morpork, looked down at the woman laying in bed next to him and chuckled lightly. There had been no questions, no whispered affections, no hesitation. No sound but for the harmony of her breathing and the steady beat of her heart as she had approached him through the darkened room.<em>

_She rolled onto his leg and it twinged, but her could bear the pain better than the thought of pushing her away. She had been eager to hear about his dinner with Lady Margolotta and he'd traced the story onto her skin, conversing with her via the swirling lines of her palms. Her reply had been long as she tapped it onto his thigh, soft fingertips through rough fabric making his skin prickle in a good way._

_Hours later in the present, his deaf mute confidante rolled over on top of him. Her hair spread in dark honey strands over his arms as they wrapped around her back and he wondered for the thousandth time what her voice would sound like. What it would be like to have a real conversation with her that didn't involve the tapping of code or the writing down of things she wanted to say, but the melodious sound of two voices just talking. He had imagined all sorts of accents, all sorts of tones or pace for her voice, but he could never quite get it right._

_And then she spoke._


	2. Chapter 1: Mints

_**30 years Earlier**_

She had always enjoyed the rain, in a way that only a small child can understand. It ran off of the hood of her bright red cloak, the one she'd specifically demanded (not requested) of her mother because it made her look like little red riding hood(1). There was a spider web clinging to the gate, beads of moisture in turn clinging to the strands like tiny hitch hikers. There was a noise on the wall above her, a shifting of old rock. The girl turned her face skyward and beheld a shadow that wasn't a shadow. It was dark black against a black and blue night sky, but it was there.

The idle amusement of watching the rain paled in comparison to the promise of mystery and intrigue that her shadow provided, so she decided to do something terrible. She ignored her mother's orders.

The not-shadow reached a point in the wall where a house rested casually against it. It leapt from the wall to the roof of the house, sliding down and to the street. She found it there, waiting for her in the shadowy corner made by one side of the house and the wall. He was different now. Less visible. More interesting.

A dilemma occurred when she went to say hello, then remembered that she was forbidden from talking to strangers. It would be rude to not acknowledge him though wouldn't it? Stubby fingers squirmed through her pockets until she found a little packet of squishy mints that her mother had put there earlier. She unwrapped the paper, selected one and held it out towards the shadowy depths of the corner.

The assassin watched the girl in the red coat carefully, then after deciding that she was probably not another assassin in disguise(2) and therefore probably not trying to kill him at this moment in time, reached out a gloved hand and took the proffered confectionery and hoped she would go away. The absurd child giggled and cocked her head to one side in confusion and expectation. A tiny mouth bereft of front teeth formed a small O and she helped herself to one of the sweets and exaggeratedly put it into her mouth, chewed and gave him a smile and thumbs up. Understanding what she was waiting for, he rolled his eyes and popped the mint into his mouth, crunching it loudly so that she would hear him eat it. Her grubby little face lifted into an overbite grin before she waved frantically and skipped off in the direction she came from.

Havelock Vetinari slipped away into the night, mentally filing his encounter with the girl as "irrelevant", then concentrated on stowing away his black assassination gear. The news would already be getting around that Winder was dead and it would be best if he were within the guild as quickly as possible, to retain some semblance of innocence. The fact that the girl had seen him despite the green clothes he'd just donned was troubling, but he reconciled that she was just a child and that children often observe things that are really there, no matter how unbelievable they are. The only enduring impression he gained from the encounter was that he really, really despised it when people mimed actions that could have been explained with a few simple words.

Back at the gate, the girl gathered her cloak around her, pleased with her new friend the green man and hoping she would meet him again. His face under the hood had been in shadow, all except his lips which she had seen partially, though they had seemed to be melting into the background in a disturbing way. Her young mind was so filled with wondering about the man, the colour of his skin and if he enjoyed his mint that morning came without her even realising that the night had ended. One of the palace gardeners shook her awake when he came to open the gate in the morning. There were questions and no answers, a room of shouting men who smelled of sweat and earth. One of them gave her a cup of very milky, overly sweet tea that she didn't drink and asked her more questions. She would have liked to explain that she was forbidden from moving from where her mother left her and from speaking to strangers, but to do that she'd have to speak and that would mean she'd broken _both _rules and she'd be in _BIG _trouble rather than just a little bit of trouble. They stamped a big book and wrote laboriously in it, then gave her back to the gardener, who seemed to have trouble with the letter H.

"I think she's deaf too Tim, can't be nothing but a liability."

"She'll follow orders just fine though, I reck'n, if we can get 'er to understand 'em. Can't just toss 'er on the streets 'arry, look at 'er. Pretty 'lil princess that un. Wouldn't last five 'ours."

"Not your problem though is it mate? I'll see yous around."

The other man, the one with the weird badge and bad tea, ushered them out the door with a shake of his head. She wandered along in the wake of the gardener, content to be with someone who seemed to know what he was doing, until her mother came back, of course. He was chatting amiably to her, not minding the lack of response one bit. He was a man of many words and not many people willing to stick around long enough to listen to everything. She listened passively, finding comfort in the fact that he wasn't expecting her to talk like all the others had.

"So yer a mute? Deaf too by the looks of things, but yer a real pretty one y'know? Won't do ya much good in the gardens but we can strengthen ye up good. Yeh'll have a nice 'ome with me, won't be fancy, but I do alright, me. Head gardener up at the palace, though yeh wouldn't-"

She tuned it out, smiling to herself as he led her through the smelling crowds, past the groups of bystanders heckling each other, even those that agreed with them, past a herd of cows being directed along the road and carts of eggs.

"'cept now we've got a new bloke up top who finks 'e's the king of bloody everything, 'scuse my klatchian, I forgot yer so young, shoulda minded my manners, eh?" He turned and grinned crookedly at her. "Anyways, new feller thinks the sun shines out of 'is own arsehole is ye ask me. Asked me what the point of the gardens were. Why should it _need _a point, I asks 'im, but the nob jus' looksat me like I'm a member of the fools guild."

She looked at him, feeling his eyes on her. "You really can't 'ear me can ya darlin'?" She tilted her head further to one side. It was oddly freeing that everyone thought she couldn't hear them. She was finding out all sorts of secrets. But...

"Well, guess that settles that. Deaf and dumb. Not stupid though, just mute." Tim muttered, deciding for her. She'd let them believe what they wanted to. It made little difference in the end. Her mother would be back soon and then she could reveal her little trick. Boy, would Tim be surprised...

coincidentally, whilst being nagged into buying the coat her mother had been struck by the sudden hope that her daughter would also be eaten up by a ravenous wolf. Unfortunately, her mother was dead so there was no granny for the wolf to disguise itself as. Damn.

Since if this were an assassin in disguise, they would have to be a dwarf. A beardless one. The situation was as unlikely as Bloody stupid Johnson winning an award for great craftsmanship.


	3. Chapter 2: Independence

**Disclaimer: All i own is my Original character and the rabid plotbunny that spawned her. Enjoy this load of fun fueled rubbish, if you dare.**

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><p><em><strong>20 years ago<strong>_

"Elle! Oi! El- Oh, right. Stupid deaf girl." Simon jogged over and tapped the teenager on the shoulder with forced patience. An earth caked face looked up at him from the flowerbeds, tilted to one side.

"Go." He pointed over his shoulder towards the tools sheds "Tim wants you. No, not _me. TIM. _Big guy, round, speaks a lot." He mimed the appropriate actions of holding his hand up high, circling it to indicate a large girth, then tapped the fingers of one hand against the thumb to indicate talking. Elle nodded, dusting loose dirt from her trousers and heading towards the shed.

She ignored the muttered comments of Simon about how ignorant she was, knowing that if he knew she could hear him he wouldn't be saying such stuff aloud. It was at times like this she regretted the decision to not reveal that she was neither deaf nor mute. But it had it's perks. Like hearing Tim singing while he cooked because he thought no one could hear him pretending to be an opera singer. A very _bad _opera singer.

Tim smiled at her as she entered, his hands tumbling over each other in greeting. She returned it, her hands dancing through the motion of the language that had sprung up between them in the past decade. It was the only way of communication, miming, speaking with her hands. She could give up the game, of course, but after so long of not using her voice, she was half afraid that she couldn't anymore. That he would throw her out if he knew she could cope with the world on her own much better than he thought. That he would hate her for playing what had started as a little trick and had turned into full blown deceit.

**You okay?**

**Fine, it's a nice day. Bit bored.**

**How do you feel about a little outing?**

**Where?**

**The library. Need some books taken back, but I'm busy here.**

Elle hesitated, her hands pausing. Tim didn't look at all busy. In fact, there was nothing that really needed doing around the garden except feeding the birds in the beehives, make sure the trout was still alive and do a little weeding and mow the lawn.

**Is this a test Tim?**

**What do you mean?**

**Sending me out to do something on my own for t he first time. You're testing me right?**

**No...well. I really do need those books to be taken back. The librarian may look like a meek young man, but he's like an animal when it comes to his books.**

**And it's just a happy coincidence that this will be a chance for me to go out into the city on my own without you watching over me?**

**Yes.**

**Yeah, right. I'll take them though. Can't have a _librarian _on our tail can we?**

**Say what you like L, I'm telling you the guy is an animal.**

Elle rolled her eyes and took the books he handed her, excited despite herself. She was being given time to herself! Solitude was quite usual to her due to the gardens large size and the fact that hardly anyone even tried to communicate with her. They didn't see the point, and she had to admit they were justified. Why talk to someone who isn't ever going to reply?

Tim shoved a few coins into her hand, along with another pencil.

**Get yourself something nice. You got your notebook, right?**

**When don't I?**

**Okay. Silly thing to say. Well, see you later**.

The closest thing she had to a father straightened up and nodded, going back to his desk. He was a good man, but a bit too...gruff for feelings. Emotionally handicapped, as seemed to be the case with a lot of men she'd observed. But he meant well.

"Take care Ellie." He muttered, knowing she couldn't possibly hear him. The way he liked it. It was too awkward, too personal to tell her that he had always wanted children and the only one he'd ever got was her. He'd whispered it to her once late at night, not signing it to her. It was all he could ever bring himself to do. An indirect way of telling his adopted daughter he loved her. So that he could content himself in knowing that he had told her, he had said the words, even if she hadn't heard them. But she had heard them. And it killed her every time that she couldn't reply without revealing her deceit. That she _could _hear him. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out that she could speak, also.

The door closed behind her, shutting away the guilt. She was going into the city for the first time _on her own! _For a fifteen year old girl whose whole world and only acquaintances were within these walls, it was like Hogswatch had come early.

The city reminded her of some prehistoric beast in that it was enormous, loud and above all, it smelled. The reek of it was worse beyond the walls of the palace grounds. She knew her way to the university by a little drawing Tim had done; turnwise down Broadway, through the maul to the plaza of broken moons and then down to Sator square and through the door into the library. Deja vu hit her as she wandered alongside the wall, peeking up at the top as if expecting to see a figure all made of darkness. There was nothing there except wilting ivy and a pigeon who promptly attempted to relieve itself on her head.

Ducking to the side, she hurried along to the library, determined to get the delivery of books over as quickly as possible so that she could look in the nearby shops instead, or take a look at the guild buildings. She might even pop into the guild of plumbers and ask if there was anyone brave enough to attempt fixing the garden fountain. So far it had claimed 4.25 plumbers(1) and one stone cherub. It probably wasn't even worth fixing, but it was a way to delay returning home.

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><p>(1) It had claimed only the arm of one man when he was foolish enough to try and reach inside it to unblock something and found himself suddenly bereft of his right arm.<p>

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><p>The library welcomed her into its dusty embrace, the smell of old books promising hours of searching and not much finding. There was a desk at what was probably the middle of the library at which a very unassuming looking wizard look. There was something very quiet and polite about the way he looked up at her when she handed the books over. <em>What the hell was Tim on about ? If this guys an animal he's something quiet. Like a slug. Or a tortoise. A tortoise is nicer. If he wasn't so...ginger and beardy he could be. A hairy ginger tortoise would be wrong. <em>Her thoughts chased themselves in pointless circles around her brain.

"These books are late. You will need to pay a fine." The wizard was suddenly looking at her like she'd suggested the mass murder of children.

Drawing out the omnipresent notebook and pencil from her back pocket, she resigned herself to writing in laborious, rounded letters.

_I'm sorry, but I'm deaf as well as Mute, so can you write what you said on here, or else mouth or mime it to me? I'm really sorry for the inconvenience_

She hesitated, ridiculously tempted to draw a sad face, but this wasn't one of the other gardeners. She doubted that this guy would take it quite as well. As it was, when she handed him the notebook he simply sighed before holding his hand out for the pencil.

_Your books are **late** back, so there's a fine to be payed. These books are **a whole year **late. That will be five dollars._

Elle blew out a gust of air. Now she could see what Tim meant by the guy being a little...odd. Due to his anger on certain key words he'd scored through the paper with the pencil, marking the piece of paper underneath. Trust Tim to think that his books were due back today instead of this day _last _year. She emptied the money she'd been given by Tim and some change she'd had in her pocket dejectedly, knowing there was no chance she had enough to pay the fine. 3 dollars, 10 shillings and a few pennies and thruppeny bits rolled onto the desk. Quite a bit to be carrying around just in your pockets at any rate, but still nowhere near enough.

_That's all the money I have in my pockets, can I come in tomorrow with the rest. _The librarian's face molded into a look that seemed to read "Think I was born yesterday?" So she added _Honestly, look, this was my mothers, I'll leave it here so you know I'm coming back._

A necklace joined the pile of coins and the librarian sighed before frowning and picking up the necklace, turning it over in his hands. Those same hands then itched for the pencil and scrawled words onto her notebook

_This is gold. It'll do to cover your fine. Don't worry about coming back. I know you won't anyway. Nobody ever does._

_**WHAT? **_Her hand indented the words into the paper as if she was trying to carve, not write them _Give me my necklace back you pea brained ginger tortoise! That is worth way more, sentimentally and monetarilly than 5 dollars and you know it, so stop trying to con me, I know the value of that necklace and I will report you for theft._

_It's not theft, I am reclaiming credit where it's due to the library._

_Except I have already payed over half the fine, I only owe you about two dollars and the necklace is worth about seven. It's my mothers and the only family heirloom I have, now give it back or I swear to god I will burn this whole place to the -_

"Is there a problem here? You've both been writing in a book for the past five minutes in complete silence." A bored, calculatingly polite voice asked in the queue behind her but she didn't react. Wasn't meant to be able to hear whoever this newcomer was. Sounded like a posh nob. Not her sort.

_-ground then collect the ashes and feed you with them until you suffocate._

Shoving the book across the desk to the librarian, she held out her hand palm up. The man looked at her, gulped and shook his head. Fake bravado if ever she saw it. He'd just need one little nudge. Hmm.

"Excuse me? Are you ignoring me?"

"Sorry sir, the young lady here is deaf and mute. As well as stubborn as an ass and really quite frightening. I'll be with you in a moment when we've settled the issue of her fine..."

"What about it? I saw her give you the coins."

"Yes, regrettably she doesn't have the required amount-"

"She gave you a necklace too, why did she do that?"

"I believe she wanted to give it to me in lieu of coinage sir,"

"A theory disproved quite adequately by the fact that she's crying."

"She's- oh."

Elle felt like a complete failure to her gender, but if there was one thing she'd learned from living with a group of men it was that when a woman started crying, they'd almost instantly do anything to make her stop. Even agree with something they weren't originally going to. Feminism be damned; she wanted her necklace back.

"Erm, can someone, er, miss?" The librarian came out from behind his desk, putting one hand on her arm awkwardly. "Is there something wrong? Miss, please stop crying."

"Clearly she does not want to hand over the necklace." The man standing behind me came into view as he bent over the desk to pick up the notebook, without the librarian seeing. His eyes were scanning along the top page at high speed, something she instantly envied. She'd never gone to school; had learned to read and write from Jonathan, the footman. He was the only one who had any sort of patience for the task of teaching someone who supposedly can't even hear him to read. He couldn't even tell if she had learned it right since she couldn't read anything aloud to him.

The librarian returned to behind the desk. Elle decided to stop crying, not because it wasn't having effect, but because the young man was really quite handsome. Distinguished. In the presence of his three piece suited appearance, the dirt encrusted trousers and worn shirt she was wearing were suddenly itchy under his gaze, which seemed to pass over and through her at the same time. He looked to be just below thirty, but his way of talking made him seem so much older. Vaguely aware that she was now staring glassy eyed at the man (And that he in turn was staring back blankly), she dropped her gaze.

Unexpectedly, the young man sighed and scribbled a note down on the notebook, then threw down two dollars. The librarian flinched at the movement, as if expecting them to get thrown _at _him rather than _to _him.

"Give her the necklace back. That should cover the rest of her fine and more." He demanded of the suddenly rather small looking librarian. "I should also mention, while I'm here, that the necklace seems to be worth a lot more than the fine. Fraud is a rather awful crime, don't you think?"

"Ye-yes Mr Vetinari- I mean my Lord."

"Good. I believe there is something you should be doing."

"Yes! Quite right. I'll er- go organise some books"

The librarian flung the necklace down at the desk and Elle's eyes bulged as the man, Veterinary, Was it? Caught it mid fall and swooped back up within a split second, seeming almost as if he hadn't moved at all. _Bloody hell is he a vampire? _

The man turned to look at her, holding out the necklace by the end of it's chain. Her hand reached out and his other hand went down to hold it underneath, steadying it as he allowed the necklace to flow down into her hand in a shimmery pool. A curt nod and he left before she could grab her pencil to scrawl a thankyou and ask where she could find him to repay him. Looking down at the pad, she suddenly remembered that he had also written on there.

_**Don't worry about repaying me. Reading your meritorious rant about how exactly you were going to punish him was quite rewarding enough. **_

_**In the hope that next time we meet it will be under better circumstances,**_

_**Havelock Vetinari**_

_**P.s. Do not forget to bring them back a little earlier next time.**_

Not quite sure whether to be touched or insulted, she settled for admiring the neat copperplate writing, then glanced around to check the librarian was not in sight. It was true that she wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible now that her saviour was gone, but curiosity always was her failing and they were bound to have a copy of Twurp's peerage here. Also, she needed to look up the word meritorious...

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><p>Hours later, she left the library, diverting so that she wouldn't have to pass the main desk. It was starting to rain sporadically as she left, new words bouncing around in her head like stray <em>atoms<em>. That was one of her new words. She'd started by looking up Havelock Vetinari in the peerage and found him to be one of the last remaining members of his family. Just an aunt still living, it seemed. Plenty of money, but he was an assassin. The idea gave her the shivers just thinking about it. Killing someone in self defence would be one thing, but actually making a profession of it was different. For all their fancy words and justifications, Murder and Assassination were filed under the same meaning. The revelation had curbed her earlier attraction to him slightly, so she'd instead turned to looking up the word Meritorious.

For a moment she had been shocked beyond belief at his audacity in saying that her rant was "1) alluring by vulgar or flashy display – based on pretence of insincerity 2) pertaining to prostitutes.". After her initial shock had abated she realised that she was reading the definition of the word meretricious. Finding the correct word, she found that meritorious meant "Admirable, or deserving praise. Derived from the word Merit."

Feeling slightly warm inside, despite the freezing weather, she gathered herself in her jacket and decided to take a longer route home. Namely, one that went past the assassins guild. Well, she could dream, couldn't she? Isn't that what the teenage years were _for?_

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><p><strong>AN This chapter is set a couple of years before V is patrician, around the time of Colour of Magic, just before the Librarian gets turned into an ape.  
>A review would be nice, signed or unsigned. I also accept flames, because i'm part dragonlady and like to munch them for breakfast. See you next chapter!<strong>


	4. Chapter 3: tour iced?

**A/N Well, there's been generally a positive response to the story, so I've been writing the plot for quite some time and now know what I'm actually doing. So after this long hiatus the story is officially going to continue! It'll be a long ride though, so buckle yourself in, hold on tight and pray to [insert deity of choice].**

**Chronologically, this chapter begins just before the events of Colour of Magic and during the first little section**** of CoM. Elle is at this time 15. Vetinari is roughly 27**

**Disclaimer: Regrettably, I do not own the Discworld, except in my wildest dreams. I do own any spelling mistakes though, aren't I just the luckiest?**

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><p><em><strong>20 years ago<strong>_

When Elle returned the next day to the library, there was no sign of the mysterious Vetinari from yesterday. She contented herself with putting the money she had brought with her to pay him back to good use by buying a soft blue dress from an overpriced shop in the maul, as well as buying a pair of shoes that weren't solely designed to keep mud and grime off of her. It was simultaneously exciting and terrifying to own feminine clothes instead of the trousers, dungarees and general miss-matched clothes that she'd inherited from the last gardeners assistant, who had been a lot less wide than her at the hips. And also the chest area.

Later, when looking at her purchases in the privacy of the cupboard-like room she slept in, Elle found herself laughing softly at her own stupidity. She could never wear something like this. When would she have the opportunity? When would she have the courage to go out dressed like this? _I'm almost permanently covered in dirt, or worse manure from fertilising the roses. I don't even possess a hair brush. I spent the entire day in a library just on the off chance that a certain Havelock Vetinari would show up. Well, his note said "next time we meet", but that's probably just him being courteous. _Once again, she smiled at the new word that had slipped into her thoughts.

It was strange really how the words she had read in the dictionary today and yesterday had stuck in her mind. Like a few drops of ink falling into water, the words had spread out within her mind and settled there ready for use. She'd had to teach Tim new signs for the words she'd learnt. He'd said that she was turning into quite the intelligent young lady and she'd smiled and inwardly thought that he was wrong; she knew a few new words, not anything of use. Also, she wasn't a lady. Twurps peerage had certainly taught her that.

Elle settled on the edge of her bed and drew her legs up underneath her. The thought that had been battering away at the edges of her mind finally broke through with full force. _Who am I?_ According to the peerage, breeding was everything. Some people had an entire chapter devoted only to them; like a pedigree dog, it seemed that to the upper classes who you were related to was everything. She'd been sorry to learn that Vetinari had only one relative, but at least he knew who his deceased relatives had been. He and others of his class had grown up with the certainty of money and influence behind them, knowing who their ancestors had been and who they were expected to become. She did not know who her mother was. She certainly didn't know who her father was. The only thing she had was a necklace and a distant memory of her mother's face and voice. Her name wasn't even Elle. Tim had named her that after the label the night watch had given her when she was first found. They'd filed her under lost property, using the unblinkingly stupid logic of the watch** (1)**. So, she had become L#3465 and when no name had been discovered, Tim couldn't bring himself to call her by a number, so in a moment of inspiration Tim had decided to call her "Elle" like the letter 'L' from her label.

The box under her bed called to her. It was an old flower crate, the type that the new seedlings arrived in every year from somewhere in the country. The Ankh-Morpork weather, Tim said, was bad for flowers in general however the current patrician Lord Snapcase and his predecessors had both been of the opinion that that was a challenge that would go away in time if they persevered long enough **(2)**. It never had. The city was too polluted, too wet and too cold. Why the nobs kept making them replant the flowers every spring time, even when every year the flowers all died due to the climate, was beyond Elle's understanding. Still, if the buggers ever woke up and realised that it was impossible to grow most things around here, the palace gardeners would soon be out of a job.

Within the box, the red coat waited for her. It was still as vibrant as she remembered. Beneath it lay a small flower printed dress, tights and tiny shoes. Her possessions that night. Within the coat pocket, she knew, there was still half a packet full of crumbling, aged mints. Elle shoved the box roughly back under the bed and the thought from her head.

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><p><strong>(1) The logic followed thus; this is a lost child. It must have a parent due to the A) fact that the child was clearly cared for, B) the biological necessity of said parents existing. Children are fed by and sheltered by their parents. Therefore the parents own them in the same way a person owns a pet. Therefore the child is a lost possession.<strong>

**(2) This mentality is not only exclusive to the noble classes but IS exclusive to the type of person who think that because they want something to occur in a certain way, it shall naturally do so despite all evidence to the contrary. In other words, most of the members of the noble class.**

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><p>It was on another excursion outside the palace, some weeks later, that Elle first met Rincewind. Simon had invited the other gardeners and some of the staff out to the pub and, after being prompted by Tim, had been forced to include Elle in the invite. For her part, she was reluctant to go. No doubt Simon would be obnoxious and rude as ever to her face because he thought she didn't know. But Jonathan, the footman had encouraged her into going.<p>

So here she was inside the dingy Broken Drum, having scrubbed her hands and face almost raw with soap and run her fingers repeatedly through her hair in an attempt to tame it somewhat. All just in case there was a nice young man at the Drum who might look her way. She really needn't have bothered.

The drum's interior was smoky and smelled of the stench that gathers in any room where many men to whom hygiene is an optional myth convalesce. It was, nevertheless, an interesting place **(3)** to spend an evening in quiet reflection. Simon had disappeared as the hours grew later with an odd woman who wore altogether too little clothing. She had signed the question of why the woman was wearing such little clothing to Tim, who had promptly turned bright red and gulped down altogether too much beer before excusing himself. Elle had brushed the issue off and decided to leave it for another day.

Jonathan had sat besides her all evening, up at the bar. He threw sideways glances at her every now and then, as if to check that she was not totally horrified by her surroundings. When a barbarian had approached them at one point and asked to buy her a drink, Jon had quickly replied that she was deaf and couldn't hear. This had seemed to delight the barbarian, who had commented.

"Makes it easy. Not good wiv words. Dunt need 'em wiv wummen" The man had then grinned, showing a set of six smashed up teeth and Jon had scowled at him until the man bought her a drink before quickly moving on when he realised that to talk to her, he'd have to embark upon the perilous quest of writing words down.

_What was that about? Why did he buy me a drink? _She wrote, sliding the paper across the beer stained counter to Jon who picked up the pen she handed him and wrote slowly.

_Because, Elle, he wanted to buy you a drink, have a brief talk and well... You know what he'd want. _

_No, what?_

_Well, to take you home and have his way with you._

_Have his way?_

Jonathan looked up at her after reading the sentence she'd put and groaned. "You've got to be kidding me." He muttered, before twisting around to look around for Tim. Glancing back at Elle, he held up his hands and pointed down to the ground. "Stay here one minute. I'll be back." He smiled reassuringly and trotted off, much to her confusion.

With Jon gone, Elle found herself ever so slightly more nervous. A small, raggedy man shuffled his way into the seat on the other side of her and gave her a weak smile. His robes proclaimed him to be a wizard, but his hat said-

_Wizzard? _She pushed the note towards him, tilting her head onto one side. He surveyed the paper for a second as if expecting it to leap up and bite him before nodding briskly. She sighed and pulled the paper back to write a clearer question but was interrupted by the arrival of Tim, who patted her on the shoulder.

**I need to talk to you about something I should have taught you about years ago.**

**Oh, what's that then?**

**Well, it's about the birds and the bees, so to speak.**

**Yes, I've always wondered about that. Why is it that birds live in the beehives at the palace? In the rest of the world they live in trees, so why are they in a beehive-**

**Bloody Stupid Johnson made the hives remember? They're big enough to house a thousand bees so we keep birds in there instead. But that's not what I meant**

**What did you mean then?**

**I need to talk to you about-**

"Why are you making abstract gestures at each other" The wizard interjected and Tim stopped signing gratefully.

"She's deaf, we have a sort of language where we talk with our hands-"

"Interesting. I'm rather good with languages, do you think she could teach me?"

"It's very complicated" Tim said reluctantly, scuffing his shoes. Elle could see that he just didn't want to share their way of communicating with another person.

**What is he saying Tim?**

**He wants to be taught what our signs mean.**

**Well, I could always try. But he probably won't understand it anyway. Some things are stuff only we would understand.**

**Yes, he wouldn't understand the connection between the word and the sign we used, would he?**

**No, we understand each other. He never could hope to understand me like you.**

She hesitated, knowing that she was pushing the boundaries a little tonight. Her conservative nature told her to stop there, that that was more than enough of a hint to Tim, who by nature wasn't the type to air his emotions publicly. The beer within her cheered and pushed her hands into action.

**I know you don't want to share this with anyone else, because it's our thing. But I need to talk to other people or I'll go mad. You've always been more than-**

_Damn. We don't have a sign for it. It's so clearly taboo that it's never been necessary..._Elle rolled her eyes and held up a finger to indicate he should wait, whilst scrawling a brief note onto the last bit of paper she had, the pencil denting the paper when it fell into the rough crevices carved and dented onto the counter she was leaning against.

_Y**ou h**av**e a**nd** always **will b**e **_**a **_fathe**r to** me, bu**t I n**eed **to be** able t**o tal**k to o**th**er pe**o**ple._

Tim stared at the scrap of paper between his fingers for a moment before tucking it into his uppermost pocket, giving her a soft-eyed nod and leaving her with the wizard, who had been busy drinking his beer and pretending not to be watching the exchange. Seeing that she was now not busy, he turned to her quickly, covering a stain on his sleeve casually with one hand. She smiled and pointed towards his glass of beer before signing the appropriate word; he soon caught on to what she was teaching him. Funny how he was eager to know the word for that particular substance...

In the half an hour she stayed with the wizard, she managed to teach him Beer, glass, man, woman chair, wizard and a selection of other random words, relying on their presence in the bar so that she could point to them then make the sign. As such, the range of things she could teach him was limited by their current surroundings. He also seemed to have no interest whatsoever in learning the signs for the various weapons dangling off of the nearby bar patrons, or how to say death, pain, punch or stab, which were only some of the things she witnessed during their time together their. When Tim approached them again to take her home, she quickly pulled out her pen and hurriedly pulled the wizards hand over (ignoring the grubby feel of it – Her hands were often much worse) and scrawling _what's your name? _Upon the palm. He hastily scribbled R_incewind, who are you? _ On her arm before Tim coughed politely to indicate that they were leaving immediately. Elle complied, sauntering over to the door where Jon stood waiting with his arms folded. He looked disapprovingly at Elle's arm before placing a hand on her shoulder and guiding her through the door frame, scoffing when she turned to wave at the wizard as she departed. As she passed through the door, a strange man with little glass orbs over his eyes walked through beside her, tailed by a man of questionable character **(4)**. The stranger smiled around at the pub's inside as if it was the Rhoxie and not the fetid dump that it really was, before approaching the bar.

Tim signalled for her to hurry up, so she let go of the door, listening keenly as it swung shut.

"I wish for an accommodation, a room, lodgings-"

The door blocked out anything else he was going to say. Elle shrugged. Foreigners.

* * *

><p><em><strong>(3) The Broken Drum was interesting in the way that a dragon or leopard is interesting; Dangerously to the point of being possibly terminally interesting.<strong>_

_**(4) Although with Blind Hugh the beggar it was more questionable identity, since the man had enough boils and blemishes to make even Nobby nobbs look twice.**_

* * *

><p>Fate plays many games. Most of which, he wins. The Lady watched closely as her adversary watched the board passively, gazing at the two small figures that had just met and parted. Chance shrugged sulkily, having just lost her place in the game.<p>

"Don't look at me. I had nothing to do with it." The minor deity tossed her hair and got up, leaving the group.

"Which of you?" Blind Io began, looking at fate and the Lady, the latter of which smiled with bland innocence.

"Coincidence, nothing more. She doesn't matter in this game."

Fate said nothing. There were no coincidences. Only him. The Lady meddled, oh how she meddled. But this girl was not involved; not in this game. That she was totally correct upon. A much bigger game was intended for that little girl. Much bigger. Astoria would be delighted when they began that game. But that was for the future. Right now...He returned his attention to the board. He had a certain wizzard to deal with.

* * *

><p>Elle fully expected never to see Rincewind again, so when he was thrown head-first out of the palace door into her the next day, she was more than a little surprised. The scrawny man levered himself upright and set off at a quick pace, muttering an apology without looking to see who the guards had thrown him into.<p>

He was conscious of someone approaching him from behind and struck out wildly as they tapped him on the shoulder. The whistled 'oomph' of air was all he heard before he was off running towards the gates of the palace gardens.

Elle's eyes watered as she clutched her chest where he'd struck her, admittedly quite weakly, but in exactly the wrong place. _Why is he trying to run away from me? I'm not that terrifying, surely?_

* * *

><p>To Rincewind, it seemed that when Twoflower had said he wanted to take images of 'typical activities' he had meant everything in sight. Street beggars, buildings and street merchants all fell beneath the gaze of the little black box, money changing hands and falling into bemused pockets. By noon, the wizard was beginning to become slightly edgy of the small crowd that followed them, recognising that 'small crowd' and 'mob' were words that could be interchanged so easily.<p>

The whore pits and temples had been visited and as Rincewind led the small man over the brass bridge (pausing for a 'scenic picture' of the river), he was desperately trying to think of a way to lose the people following them.

"Rincewind? Is that the palace of the famous Ankh-Morpork Patrician? Can we get a iconograph? Will they mind?"

"Sure, sure go ahead."

The man hurried off to the gates, snapping hurried pictures of the guards who were leaning nonchalantly against the wall beside the closed gate, smoking surreptitiously. Twoflower seemed oblivious, leaning against the bars of the gate with a rapt expression.

"Wouldn't it be wonderful to see it closer up?" The tourist mused aloud.

A thought raised it's hand and jumped up and down in the back of Rincewind's mind. _The palace girl...Tour of the grounds...shake off the mob...retain all body parts. _To his mind, the plan sounded just great.

"Twoflower, I think you'd like to meet a friend of mine..." Rincewind said, a worryingly intense smile on his face. "Let's go around to the back gate, shall we?"

* * *

><p>Havelock Vetinari strode through Sator square in search of answers. To his understanding, there was a newcomer to the city, a certain tour-iced. The rumour was that this tour iced man was rich, easy with his money and being shown the wonders of the city under the orders of the Patrician.<p>

Naturally, anything that Lord Snapcase found important was of importance to him and so Havelock found himself in Sator square on the look out for the wizard Rincewind. The marketplace that was set up in front of the university gates was in full swing, with traders haggling him as he passed, and for a few coins telling him they 'didn't know nothing about no wizard, nossir.' Still, he persisted in his search doggedly, scouring the crowd for any glimpse or overheard remark about the man. Instead, he found himself face to face with the girl from a few weeks ago, who promptly dropped the books she was carrying onto his feet.

Gritting his teeth, he flicked his foot so that the books flew off of it and she picked them up, avoiding his gaze. Her note book was dragged out and pressed into his hands before he could move onwards. One line was clearly pre-written.

_I never got to thank you before, you needn't have done anything, but I'm grateful that you did._

Then underneath, scrawled unevenly and clearly a new addition was; _Sorry if I hurt your foot. I'm Elle by the way._

Havelock sighed and held out his hand like he had been taught to so that she could shake it. He shook the warm hand she offered firmly when something caught his eye. As she retracted her hand, he noticed the name Rincewind written faintly upon it, as if she'd been scrubbing at the name with soap to remove it. She had already turned to carry on her way to the library entrance at the other end of the square when he stopped her by stepping around and in front of her.

"Wait, do you know- ah, wait." He snatched the note book from her hand and wrote _Rincewind?_

_What of him?_

_Do you know him? Have you seen him today?_

The young man was watching her intently and she shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He had one arm on her arm and the look he was giving her reminded her uncomfortably of a ravenous eagle about to pounce. The knowledge that he was an Assassin drifted to the forefront of her mind and suddenly she wasn't too keen to be giving him information. _I know him, but no I haven't seen him today. He's usually in the library though. _She lied on the spur of the moment, her mind suggesting that maybe he was out to assassinate Rincewind. But that would be ridiculous; someone who couldn't even spell 'wizard' was hardly a threat to society. Yet he seemed undeterred and took the book back from her to write in it again.

_That's a shame. How do you know him? Have you heard about a tour-iced? _

_I don't hear much of anything, Lord Vetinari. _She wrote back, trying to put as much of a cold tone into the written words as possible. _Why you are interested in someone like Rincewind I can only speculate, but you will have to ask someone else. I barely even know the man._

Elle turned and left, nose high in the air, gloating mentally about being able to lie to him without detection AND on making such a wonderful exit, when suddenly the world ground to a halt. Ah.

Turning and striding back to the silent Vetinari, she snatched back the notebook she'd just given him to read and walked back in the direction she'd originally stormed off in. _Can't ever make a dramatic exit when you have to wait for people to finish reading your rants __**before **__you storm off. _She sighed in her head, pulling her coat tighter around herself. _It's lucky that I left Rincewind and Twoflower at the plaza of Broken Moons instead of letting them help me carry my books here like Twoflower wanted. He seemed nice, in an unusual way._

The library welcomed her back into it's dusty silence. Something had been nagging at here for weeks and she had decided to research it. Slamming her hand onto the desk, Elle thrust the note at the librarian, who promptly choked on his tea. _I want to learn about the birds and the bees. Can you help me?_

* * *

><p><strong>AN ahh, poor librarian. Elle didn't realise what she was saying, thanks to Tim finding it too embarrassing to talk about certain 'facts of life'. The next chapter will be up within the next few days, I'm aiming to get through the section where Vetinari isn't patrician as quickly as possible.**


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